


Let Your Guard Down

by Val_Creative



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Episode Fix-it, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Past Violence, Romantic Friendship, Season/Series 05, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 02:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17889731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: He lied to Jeremiah. He needed to believe Bruce felt nothing for him. Not love, not hatred. Bright green-glow illuminates the tears streaking Bruce’s cheeks. Over his nose and his dirt-flecked mouth.





	Let Your Guard Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jennyfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennyfer/gifts), [Glove23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glove23/gifts).



> OH MY GOD THE LAST EPISODE EFFED ME UP SO HARD. WOW. I KNOW HE'S COMING BACK PROPERLY AS THE JOKER BUT DAAAAMN. Frankly I think we needed more Wayleska for this episode so I am here to bring you all feelings. THAT'S HOW IT GOES so if you saw this episodes HOLLER AT ME! DID YOU LOVE IT? HATE IT? DO YOU SHIP WAYLESKA TOO? Any comments/thoughts are so so appreciated and I cannot wait to see how Gotham ends! It's gonna be amazing!

 

*

Bruce stares down at the vat of churning neon-glow green.

He feels all of his hatred bubbling over, pouring out of his chest and his eyes, just like the toxic chemicals spill over tub's edges.

His fingers touch over the heavy, blood-soaked material of Bruce's sweater and dark undershirt. The wound on his sternum caused by Jeremiah's knife aching. Bruce scrunches up his already rigid features, wiping under his moistened eyes and heaving in for a deep, steadying breath.

He lied to Jeremiah. Of course… _of course_ Bruce did.

Jeremiah needed to believe Bruce felt nothing for him. Not love, not hatred, not a damn thing. Because if he knew the truth… then it meant Jeremiah won. And Bruce could _not_ allow that. He could not allow Jeremiah to know that Bruce once cherished their friendship. So much. Because then it meant dealing with the betrayal and the deepening grief, and Bruce has lost _so much_ already.

Bright green-glow illuminates the tears streaking Bruce's face. Over his dirt-flecked mouth.

After another moment, Bruce ends up _falling_ — right onto his hands and knees to the metal catwalk, seated down, adjusting himself and curling his legs in. He sobs quietly, yanking off his black-leather gloves and tossing them aside. Bruce scrapes his fingers over his eyelids and face.

( _Stop_ _crying_.)

The emotions Bruce hoped to bury, deep, _deep_ and far, emerge and blossom heatedly in his throat.

He did love Jeremiah. Not as a brother, not just as a friend, but… as _someone_ he could rely on. A _someone_ who also carried Bruce's passion for scientific tech and learning and desired to improve Gotham.

(To mend this city of destruction and disarray and _death_.)

Bruce frowns, pulling himself out of his thoughts, listening to the sounds of splashing. ( _What?_ ) He straightens up and gazes cautiously over the edge of the suspended, rickety steel. ( _It's not REAL._ )

Eyes widening, Bruce climbs back onto his feet and heads for the staircase back the way he came. Darkness spirals down to the lower level of the Ace Chemicals factory. A man flails himself over and out the tub, landing on his side, dripping with electric-green goo. Bruce nearly skids to a halt.

Jeremiah coughs, spitting out more goo and combing his damp, bluish-green hair back.

"How…" Bruce whispers, stunned as the other man groans, standing up. " … … are you…?"

" _Bad batch, I suppose_." Jeremiah's voice seems faint. Tired.

He peels off his gloves and his ruined, velvety blue jacket and then peers at Bruce staring over him, frozen in place. The corners of his violet cream-colored mouth ticking downwards. Jeremiah's bare fingers stretch out for one of Bruce's cheeks still flushed and glistening with tears.

" _You've been crying_ —"

Bruce leans out as soon as warm, soft skin presses divinely against his, his heart thundering.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't know if it is Jeremiah's words or his own, and at this point — Bruce doesn't care. They'll always be like this. Circling each other, never truly meeting or _touching_.

(And when they do, they'll spill, like runny, hot tears.)

*

 


End file.
